


Vigilantes and Cafe Owners

by Mochamiii



Series: Discord tingz [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, And I mean a LOT, Cafe owner Tom, Double Life, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry's got that Spiderman thing going on about him, Hence the warning and tags, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rated mature for swearing :D, Sane Tom Riddle, Secret Identity, The Chamber of Secrets is a cafe, The Order is a famous vigilante group, This isn't wump I swear Kiki, Tom Riddle is a Sweetheart, Vigilante Harry, but it's moderately paced in my opinion, but not yet ;), excessive use of the word 'Vigilante', harry has a hero complex, slow burn? who's she?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochamiii/pseuds/Mochamiii
Summary: In which Tom is a Cafe owner of The Chamber of Secrets and Harry is a vigilante who does an embarrassing amount of pining.For: Kiki. Happy Holidays, you're awesome :D
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Discord tingz [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604458
Comments: 10
Kudos: 227
Collections: Chamber of Secrets' Winter Exchange (2019)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaperWorlds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperWorlds/gifts).



> I hope y'all enjoy this 
> 
> Go to the end notes for the backstory of this piece!

It was a beautiful day. Well, it _would_ have been beautiful had it not been for the current predicament that befell him on this fine afternoon.

"Give us the money," one of the big burly men demanded, pointing a gun straight at Tom's head. Tom had his hands up in a surrender position, his white apron tied taut around his waist. Really, he inwardly sighed, can this get any worse? He already had a bad day: he woke up late–which almost _never_ happens– one of the deliveries to the cafe messed up, resulting in a shortage of very needed ingredients, the coffee machine started leaking, and now he's being robbed?

"I said, give us the money," the man pressed harder, making Tom snap out of his grumbling. The three other men behind him looked at him menacingly and he inwardly screamed in frustration. If he wasn't held at gunpoint right now he would have taken one of his brooms and shoved it up the guy's ass-

"And what do we have here?" A voice drawled out lazily.

They all simultaneously turned to the door, where a male figure stood, leaning against the door. He wore all black and tight fitting garments, a balaclava mask and black retro steampunk goggles obscuring his face. Tom breathed a small sigh of relief as he watched four big men simultaneously gulp in nervousness. Ah, he had only seen the news articles and heard of them in passing and social media, but they were _real_. The balaclava clad person was considered famous by modern day teens and such. He bore no name, a mere shadow leading London's most–well, _only_ –famous vigilante group, the Order of the Phoenix.

They all watched as the man stalked in, similar to a lion circling its prey before it went in for the kill. One of the men suddenly became brave as he charged forward, ready to punch the newcomer in the face. The vigilante dodged with practiced ease, ducking down on the swing and sent a swift kick to the robber's stomach upon standing up.

Chaos ensued as the four robbers broke out into fight, leaving Tom safe from harm. He stood there incredulously. Surely he couldn't take on four robbers at once! Plus, one of them still had a gun, and it would only be a matter of time before the dumbass would remember to use it.

Tom ran to the back of the cafe, into his office, searching through his desk drawers. He finally touched smooth material and hummed in triumph. He pulled out his stun gun from the bottom of the drawer and flicked it on, the device humming to life. He turned around-

A bang resounded through the area, stopping him dead in his tracks. He cursed, running to the front. Nobody better be dead! Hero vigilante or not, he will _not_ tolerate any corpses in his cafe. He rushed into the storefront and the scene was... Not pretty.

There were three unconscious (hopefully) bodies on the ground and the vigilante leader was on the ground, clutching his arm. The robber that held Tom at gunpoint earlier now pointed his gun at the figure huffing on the floor. Tom didn't think twice, aiming the stun gun at the robber and fired, sending quick bolts of electricity through the man's nervous system. He crumpled on the ground, unconscious, and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. The vigilante leader looked up at Tom, seemingly in shock.

"Uh," he stammered, "thanks." Tom nodded, holding out a hand for him. He took it in his good arm and Tom gingerly pulled him up.

"It should be _me_ thanking _you_ instead," Tom muttered. "That looks bad," he said, looking pointedly at the arm clutched tightly in the other man's right hand. The tan appendage was stained in crimson, a gash peeking through calloused fingers. It was small but bleeding profusely.

The man shrugged, feigning ignorance to the pain. "It's just a scratch, really." They both simultaneously looked down at the small blood puddle forming at the man's feet and he winced.

"Yeah," he trailed off, "I guess it's kind of bad."

Tom asked permission to see the wound. With only a few minutes of hesitation the man finally gave way to Tom's probing.

"I only have a first aid kit in the back, but it should be enough until you get proper medical attention. This looks like it needs stitches." Tom informed, gently inspecting the wound, careless of the blood now coating his fingers. He looked up when he got no response. The man just, _stared_ at him, seemingly distracted, and it was starting to unnerve him.

"Hello?"

The man flinched before nodding rapidly. "Um, yes, that'd be best. Don't wanna bleed out here or something." He chuckled nervously. Tom furrowed his brows before taking the man to the back where his first aid kit was.

"You might want to call the police while I'm fixing you up. I don't want those men to escape." Tom announced. He didn't forget to call the police; it was in his mind since the beginning, but he figured helping the vigilante that saved his life was more important.

Upon entering his office, Tom sent the vigilante to sit on his desk as he took out the first aid kit from his cabinet. The black-clad man complied, even swinging his legs off the edge of the desk like a child. Tom stifled a smile as he opened the kit, taking out sanitized wipes and gauze.

As he quietly began cleaning the wound, he couldn't help but feel a bit awkward, which, admittedly never happened. But what do you say to a person who incapacitate three men twice his size and saved you from getting shot dead? "So," he coughed, making the man turn to him. "The wound doesn't look as deep as I thought but you should still get it checked out. How long until the police come?"

"A few minutes now." The man choked out, wincing when Tom pressed the gauze to his wound. Tom apologized before finishing tying the gauze.

"How can I ever thank you?" Tom asked, walking the man out to the front where the police officers had just arrived in their cars.

"Dressing my wound was enough. But," he paused, looking over the display case. "A box of those donuts would be nice as well." He smiled—well, Tom assumed he was smiling.

"Another attempted robbery this week?" A police officer called, entering the building. He flipped thick, wavy black locks out of his face as he approached. His partner was already handcuffing the still-unconscious robbers and bringing them to the car.

"You know it Reg." The man huffed fondly. "You go take this man's statement so I can get a box of donuts." He patted the officer's shoulder before going to help the officer's partner load the robbers into the car. Tom wanted to shout out about his arm, but he refrained, already knowing the man was as stubborn as they come.

The officer rolled his eyes before opening a notepad. "Let's make this quick, we gotta get these men to the station and for your favorite hero to _"get his donuts"_ " he air-quoted. "I still need to take a statement from the victim even though it is painfully obvious what had happened before here." He sighed.

Tom made it short, plain, and simple.

"Four men came in, pointed a gun to my head and demanded I give them my money. Then, famous vigilante came in and beat three of the men unconscious and I hit the one with a gun with my stun gun." He very nearly deadpanned. The officer—Officer Black, his name tag suggests— scribbles with such speed that Tom wonders if his handwriting would even be legible.

"Anybody get hurt? Aside from the robbers."

"Said famous vigilante got grazed by a bullet. I did the best I could to clean him up."

Officer Black rose his eyebrows then quickly furrowed them, looking almost... _worried?_ "That mighty idiot." He muttered, closing his notepad. He looked up at Tom again. "Thank you for your statement, we'll get these men sorted out properly."

Tom nodded and the police man left, only to be replaced by the vigilante. "So," he sang out, "how about that box of donuts?" He asked cheekily. Tom gave a fond smile and shook his head, going behind the display case to fetch a box. He filled it with all kinds of donuts before sealing the box and handing it over to the man.

"'Til we meet again," the man dramatically bowed before leaving. Tom had half a mind to remind him of the arm before the man strolled out of the door.

Now, he looked around the broken glass and the broken chair that was used in the fight, it was time to clean up.

* * *

Harry winced as Neville tightly wrapped his arm. It really wasn't that deep of a gash, as the robber had terrible aim, but Neville still fretted over him like he had almost lost an arm.

"Honestly!" He exclaimed, "Why were you alone? you could've died!" He threw his arms out.

"But I didn't." Harry argued with a nervous smile. "Plus, I got them arrested so I call this, an absolute win."

Neville huffed exasperatedly, packing away all his equipment. If he wasn't a medical student, he wouldn't even know if Harry'd survive this long. His friend-turned-patient sat on a couch while happily eating a donut. Honestly, Neville would've smacked him upside the head for endangering himself so much but what can he say, nothing will get him to stop.

Harry moaned around his donut. "This tastes _so good_ Nev. You've gotta try one." He held out the box. Neville grimaced and refused, seeing as Harry had already downed more than half the box and he didn't want to intrude on his sugar high. He could compete with _Ron_ on this caliber of inhaling pastries.

Harry shrugged and picked up another donut, one that was jelly filled. "Your loss." He said pointedly before taking a bite. Neville involuntarily smiled before turning to put away his medical supplies. He shrugged on his jacket before turning to the green eyed man.

"I'm going out for a bit, don't put too much pressure on that arm okay?" He instructed, pointing to Harry's left arm, waiting for his nod before leaving.

Once Neville closed the door, Harry closed the box of donuts and set them beside him. He'll save the rest for Ron when he's back from patrolling. He leant back onto the plush couch and took a deep breath, looking up into the wooden carvings of the ceiling of _Weasley & Weasley_, Fred and George's shop and the headquarters of the Order.

He thought back to earlier and sighed. That cafe worker was unbelievably fit it was _insane_. Perfectly curled chestnut hair, piercing dark eyes, a sinful mouth. God, those _arms_. He groaned, burying his head into his hands. _'No Harry, don't get a silly crush on the man who saved you from being shot and gave you a box of donuts,'_ he thought.

But, did Harry ever listen to the more reasonable part of his mind?

The answer was obvious.

* * *

"Hello, welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, how may I—Potter?!"

Harry froze, looking at the woman behind the counter. He was disappointed not seeing that good-looking worker but the treats make up for it. "Uh, hi Pansy." He waved, albeit a bit awkwardly. "You work here?"

"What does it look like Harry?" She asked sarcastically, waving at her apron. Harry refrained from saying anything and she sighed. "What'll it be? We have a special on Parkins today, half off." She waved to the display case where an abundance of pastries resided.

Harry hummed, going over the treats before ending on a full thing of treacle tart. His eyes must have lit up because Pansy laughed bemusedly. "I somehow knew you'd end up there."

"What can I say? I'm loyal to the tart." Harry joked, causing Pansy to roll her eyes.

"How many slices?" She asked, taking the tart out from the display.

"Maybe three, depending on how good it is." Harry said, looking around the cafe. He noted that they replaced the chair he used to smash over one of the robber's head, which was nice. Granted, it had been a few days since the attempted robbery, plenty of time to replace things that Harry inadvertently destroyed.

Pansy snorted, "Oh Harry, you have _no idea_." Harry looked at her confusedly before she placed one slice of treacle tart in front of him. "Go on, try it." She urged on.

Harry hesitated before Pansy sighed. "It's a slow day today Harry. We can stay here as long as we like." She smiled sinisterly. Harry huffed, taking the fork outstretched by Pansy, and took a bite.

This,

This was the best treacle tart he had ever consumed. It was even better than Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart, which said _multitudes_. He couldn't hold back the shocked look on his face as Pansy laughed at him.

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted." He said in awe. "Who made this?" He questioned.

"That would be me." A deep voice drawled out. Harry gulped, that voice, god he knew that voice. He lifted his head and inhaled sharply. There, leaning against the door which lead to the kitchen was the man of his dreams. Call him childish or downright stupid, but the man in front of him was quite _literally_ the man of his dreams.

Harry felt his cheeks heating up as the man looked him over for a few moments. His gaze lingered somewhere before he stalked forward. He stretched out a hand, smiling at him cordially.

"I'm Tom Riddle. I own the place." He introduced, and Harry almost swooned. His hand was warm, very warm; a bit calloused and _very_ _big_ , he couldn't help but notice.

"Harry. Potter. Uh, Harry Potter, my name uh, is." He stammered, inwardly crying inside. _'C'mon Harry! You're the leader of a very popular vigilante group, you've encountered countless dangers and stared death in the face multiple times.'_ He thought. So, why is he losing his cool _now_ , of all times?

Tom smirked at him. Fucking _smirked_. Oh the utter arse-hole knew what he was doing. He vaguely heard Pansy's muffled laughter over the white noise in his head and he swallowed. Fuck, how do you socially interact again?

Pansy seemed to have enough. She burst out laughing, startling Harry out of his stupor. He felt his cheeks heating up as he retracted his hand, the warmth lingering.

"I should get going now," Tom said, almost regretfully. "It was nice to meet you, Harry." He offered a kind smile, and Harry could only wave dumbly as Mr. Tall, dark, and handsome left through the kitchen door.

When he looked back at Pansy, she looked at him with the infamous Parkinson smirk.

"Oh Harry, you have it _bad_."

Yeah, he guessed he did.

* * *

"So, I reckon that there wasn't any robberies while I was patrolling elsewhere?"

Tom flinched. Jesus, how is this man so quiet? He usually knows when someone is near him but not the man currently lounging in a chair, apparently. He chose to shake his head no. There wasn't any trouble ever since word had got around that the vigilante leader had put a marker on the cafe. Meaning: any criminal trouble that would happen at the cafe would end in serious consequences.

It wasn't surprising that the area around the cafe was silent. Everyone in the underground scene was scared—or at least intimidated—by The Order. They somehow always knew who they were and what they did every single time. It would have been downright terrifying if it weren't for the fact that everything they did was for the good of the public.

"No, everything had gone quiet ever since you stopped the robbery. Thank you again, by the way."

The masked man seemed happy underneath the almost opaque goggles.

"That's good. I was just uh, checking up on the place." The man shrugged, standing up. Tom narrowed his eyes in suspicion but decided to let it go.

"So," he started. "How's the arm?"

The hero seemed almost surprised at the question but he sobered up before he answered. "It's healed. It was a little deep for a small scratch but it's peachy keen!" He gave Tom a thumbs up. The hero was very... _animated_ , Tom mused.

* * *

The weeks progressed like that. Harry would visit The Chamber of Secrets both as himself, and his vigilante persona a few times a week. He knew he had a problem; visiting so often, but how could he not when he grew a serious crush on Riddle? That, and the fact that he made the best treacle tart in the world. It didn't help that Pansy was working every time he visited so he had to deal with her fucking smirking every single time he entered the place and smiled at Riddle when he came out.

Harry groaned into his pillow. He was supposed to go to the cafe and actually attempt to have a full on conversation with the man when he got a call from Regulus that there was a break-in at the jewelry store. Then, after that, he had to help this little boy get back to his parents, _then after that_ , someone asked him to carry their fucking boxes to their car. The _one time_ , where he actually had the balls to talk to Tom, he had to go somewhere else.

Don't get him wrong, he loves what he does, but can't the universe give him a break once in a while? Dreaded Potter luck struck him once again, he guessed.

He doubted he would have enough confidence to see Tom tomorrow—he was already getting jittery—so, he did the next best thing. He opened his closet, looking for his balaclava mask.

* * *

Tom silently sighed as he gazed around the empty cafe. Harry didn't come in today—not that Tom was _disappointed_ or anything. Harry's usually just... there, same time, same days with perfect attendance.

Well, until today that is.

It was nearing closing time but he didn't let himself get worried, however. People break schedules all the time and it was perfectly normal. He _definitely_ wasn't disappointed to not see a certain short male, with amazing green eyes and hair that looked like he had just been shagged. Hair that Tom wanted to run his hands through. Eyes that Tom wanted to stare into forever-

He shook his head. No, no, _no_. He wasn't developing a crush on one of his customers. He never gets crushes, never has been attracted so deeply to anyone in his life. Infatuation, yes, but those fleeting feelings always lasted shortly.

When the door to the cafe opened and it wasn't Harry, Tom–with a surprisingly heavy wave of disappointment– realized that maybe he wasn't feeling infatuation after all.

Oh well, time to dwell on these feelings later. Right now, he had to attend to a vigilante leader that was becoming a normal individual in his life.

"Hey Tom!" The man waved. Tom nodded a greeting, wiping his hands with a hand towel he carried around in his apron pockets. "Someone wanted to give you a message, said his name was Harry." He shrugged.

Tom—embarrassingly— perked up upon hearing Harry's name. "Oh? What did he say?"

The man slightly fidgeted, seemingly hesitant to answer before he spoke,a steady, cool tone that carried through the empty cafe.

"He said, he said that he really likes you. He thinks you're utterly handsome and he wants to get to know you better." He let out in one breath, voice slightly squeaking at the end.

Tom was taken aback. "What?" He choked out, eyes impossibly wide. Harry, Harry liked him. _Like_ , liked him. And he wanted to get to know Tom better? Tom's heart fluttered. Fucking fluttered. A seemingly impossible feat from his perspective, really.

The masked hero shuffled for a bit, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, he wanted to tell you in person today, but something important came up. He wanted me to tell it to you before he could chicken out."

Tom couldn't help it. He smiled.

"Really? I was just reviewing my feelings about him too."

The man choked, spluttering about. "Huh?! You like him back?"

Tom nodded, and the man spluttered again.

Tom's alarm went off, signaling that it was closing time. "I have to close up now, but I will talk to Harry tomorrow, if he comes of course." Tom informed. The vigilante nodded, a little enthusiastically and Tom escorted him to the door.

Before the vigilante could leave however, Tom stopped him.

"What is it?" The hero questioned. Tom bent forward, almost whispering in his ear.

"You've gotta work on concealing your voice Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a quick kiss on the cheek, Tom pulled away. Then, the cafe doors closed, and Harry stood there, dumbfounded. He absentmindedly touched his cheek before he almost screamed into the streets.

_Oh what utter bollocks._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little extra;)

Harry shuffled into the cafe the next day during closing time, clad in an oversized sweater and skinny jeans, which clung to his thighs teasingly. He looked utterly adorable that Tom wondered how on earth he suplexed a mugger on live TV the other day. Harry approached the counter, bitting the inside of his cheek.

"Hey Tom," he muttered, eyes downcast. Tom cracked a smile at him.

"Hey Harry,"

Harry looked around for a bit before finally settling on Tom. "So," he started. "What are we gonna do?" He said in a quiet voice.

Tom couldn't help himself, he started chuckling. Harry looked at him surprised. "What? What's wrong?"

"You're just, so shy! You literally body slam criminals on the daily and you're here, right now, acting like a pure, innocent baby." He sighed. "It's honestly endearing," he leaned forward on the counter, holding his head on his hand. With this position, he was now eye level with Harry, which the black haired man didn't know how to feel about. Curse Tom's long legs.

"End-endearing?" Harry repeated, blushing profusely. He inwardly admonished himself as he watched Tom smirk. 'Don't blush like a flustered schoolboy Harry!' the little nagging voice in his head said. 

Tom leaned closer. Oh, he was going to have his fun with this one. "Yes, endearing, love." His nose bumped against Harry's own and he felt Harry's breath hitch. They locked eyes, and Tom immersed himself with bright green irises. They were unlike any other green he had seen. It was almost... magical, in a way.

Harry's heart fluttered in his chest. If Tom did anymore flirting he was sure to have a heart attack. But, he–with a new sense of confidence–pondered, smirking slightly, maybe he should get a taste of his own medicine. Tom rose an elegantly shaped brow at his expression before widening his eyes.

Harry had grabbed his collar, pulling him even closer to Harry. "Aww, you look endearing as well, darling." He cooed, then smirked as he saw a faint red dotting Tom's cheeks. Tom was clutching the counter to not tip over as Harry ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up. You see, when it comes to flirting, while Tom does more talking, Harry is more...hands on, so to say. The thought only made Tom heat up slightly more.

"You should hurry up and close up shop Tom. I'll be waiting right here." He copied Tom's actions from yesterday and kissed him on the cheek before letting go, gently pushing him away.

Tom stumbled back, cheeks flushed, and hair tousled. "Yes, I'll get right to that." He squeaked out before walking promptly into the back room. Harry chuckled as he turned around and flipped the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'.

In the back rooms, Tom cursed himself. He squeaked! He fucking squeaked in front of Harry! Oh the humanity, he bemoaned, while stacking the eggs in the fridge. 

When he came back out after a few minutes, Harry was lounging on a chair on his phone. He looked up as Tom approached him and smiled. "You ready to go squeaky boy?" He asked with a shit-eating grin on his face. Tom glared at him before shooing Harry out of the cafe to lock the door.

Tom shrugged on his coat before taking out the key and locking the door. When he turned back, he informed Harry of what they were going to do that day. "So," he started. "We're going to go back to my flat and watch movies, if you want to?"

Harry smiled and took Tom's arm. "I'd like that. It's too chilly to do anything enjoyable outside anyways."

* * *

After talking about random and various topics about their personal life, the two cuddled on Tom's couch, binging the Roonil Wazlib series. A thick blanket wrapped around them and a few half eaten snacks lay on the plate in front of them.

"You know," Harry said, "I really liked today." He announced, watching Roonil fighting a basilisk.

"Me too," Tom sighed, burying himself farther into the crook of Harry's neck. Harry snorted, smacking Tom on the shoulder. 

"Stop it, you're tickling me." 

He felt Tom smirk against him and widened his eyes. "Oh no," he muttered.

He shrieked as Tom dug his fingers into his sides, tickling him. "Nononono!" he yelled, laughing. He squirmed on top of Tom and refrained himself from smacking Tom with enough force to knock him out.

He continued to squirm before he flipped himself around, straddling Tom's lap. "Please stop!" He laughed, smacking Tom's shoulder. When Tom didn't, he settled for the next best thing.

He grabbed Tom's collar for the second time that day and kissed him, closing his eyes. He felt Tom stop against him before he pushed back with more force. He felt arms clutch at his waist, pulling him closer. He swept his tongue across Tom's lips and the man opened his mouth for him.

Tom tasted like honey and whatever they ate for snacks earlier, which were admittedly, left over pastries from the cafe. Harry tasted even better in Tom's a opinion. Treacle tart and chocolate.

When Harry pulled away, Tom tried following, but Harry pushed him back, laughing. 

"I wouldn't mind tickling you everytime if this is the outcome." Tom muttered.

"Tom," Harry smiled. "If you ever tickle me again, I'll kick you out the window." He smiled innocently. 

"Hot," Tom stated, causing Harry to snort.

"You know, if you want kisses, just ask me."

Tom chuckled. "You know I'll abuse it." He tightened his hold against Harry's hips.

"Who said I would complain?" Harry smirked, leaning closer.

Tom smiled. This wouldn't be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> The reasons why Harry and the gang are vigilantes is because they know how hard it is to trust the police force. Each of them or someone they know have been wronged in one way or another and didn't feel satisfied with how it was resolved, hence why they took matters in their own hands. They want to help the public; Regulus being an officer helped them get in good terms with the police force so they work hand in hand now.
> 
> Now, the reason why Tom owns a cafe: he just wants to man, give him a break.
> 
> PS: Happy Holidays!


End file.
